


Avonlea’s Summer of 1880 Great Game of Capture the Flag!

by christah88



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 11:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christah88/pseuds/christah88
Summary: Moody Spurgeon has gathered all the boys in Avonlea between 12 and 18 at the softball diamond for a game of capture the flag. Subterfuge, reconnaissance, undercover missions, and just a dash of chicken-coop-climbing combine to make this a game they will not soon forget. Why? Because Anne Shirley-Cuthbert wants to play, of course, and she demands that the rest of the girls be allowed to play, too.





	Avonlea’s Summer of 1880 Great Game of Capture the Flag!

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place 1.5 years after the end of the first season of _Anne with an E_. Anne is 15, Gilbert is 17. Gilbert has been back in Avonlea for at least six months or so.
> 
> Enjoy!

Anne had just finished drying the dishes after breakfast one Saturday morning when Diana came running up the front porch, pink-cheeked and loustry-eyed with excitement.

“Oh, Anne!” she gasped, the outer door slamming shut behind her. “It’s going to be so wonderful, I can’t wait!”

Marilla looked up from the lump of dough she was kneading on the counter and raised an eyebrow.

“Diana,” Anne responded, wide-eyed. “You must tell me what has you in such raptures, I simply must know so I can celebrate with you properly!”

“Moody Spurgeon’s just told me,” Diana wheezed, nearly jumping up and down. “All the boys are getting together down by the softball diamond late this afternoon. They’re putting together a game of capture the flag, and we simply must go, Anne, we must go to watch and cheer them on!”

It is true that a little thrill trilled Anne’s heart at this news, but she was decidedly less enthused than Diana on some of the particulars.

“Diana,” she mused, blinking in thought. “I have never been so fortunate to watch a game of capture the flag myself, but I have read about it and I understand it to be an engrossing game of strategy and teamwork that can last for several hours, well into the night. While it would be the absolute fulfillment of one of my dreams to play, I don’t know that it would be all that exciting to watch!”

“Oh, but you must come,” Diana urged her desperately. “All the girls from school are coming - Tilly and Ruby are probably there already, staking out our seats. And they said even Josie Pye and her sister Gertie will be there, so you simply must come and keep me company while we cheer on the boys!”

Marilla bit back a snort at those words, but kept her silent vigil over the bread dough.

Anne raised her chin defiantly. “And just _who_ of the boys has been invited to participate in this afternoon’s sport?”

“Oh, _everyone_ ,” Diana breathed. “Moody said all the boys in Avonlea between 12 and 18 are coming! He said he’d talked to Charlie and Tommy, so their sisters will probably be there, too, and Eddie Pye, and Robbie and Morgan Bell, and Billy Andrews, ugh, and John Meredith, oh, and Gilbert, of course-”

“Alright,” Anne decided. “I’ll come.” Diana squealed with delight. “ _But_ ,” she said severely, cutting off Diana’s raptures, “I am not coming to _watch_ , I’m going to _play_.”

Marilla smiled as she slammed the dough on the counter.

“Play?” Diana repeated, confused. “Whatever do you mean, Anne?”

“Just as I say,” Anne sniffed. “Capture the flag is a game of strategy and teamwork, not strength or skill, so I don’t see any reason why I should be left out of such a positively delightful experience just because I am not a boy! Yes, I will go to the softball field today and I shall demand that the girls be allowed to play, too. That is,” she amended quickly, glancing at Marilla, “if I am allowed to go.”

Marilla rubbed her eyebrow with the back of her wrist. “Far be it from me to stop you in your democratic pursuits,” she said. “As long as you finish your chores and sit peacefully with Matthew and I for lunch, you may go.”

“Oh, Marilla, I knew you would understand!” Anne declared. “But how I am meant to be peaceful when the boys intend to prolong such an injustice as excluding the girls from a game of capture the flag, I do not know.”

“And,” Marilla continued, having a sudden thought, “you will invite Jerry to go with you.”

Anne’s ecstasy was cut cruelly short.

“Jerry?!” she repeated, as though Marilla had suggested she invite along Mrs. Lynde’s jersey cow. “Oh, no, Marilla,” she pleaded, “I couldn’t possibly bring Jerry! This game is to be my triumph when I lead my team to victory and prove to the boys that they are not as smart as they think they are! What does Jerry know about capture the flag, or the triumph of a resilient human spirit, or democratic reform!”

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” Marilla said sternly. “The democratic spirit invites _all_ to participate, or weren’t you just saying how terrible it was that the boys didn’t think to invite _you_?”

Anne’s shoulders slumped as she turned to Diana. “What a torment it is to be forced to reconcile with my own words and ideals in such a way.” She shuddered. “Diana, I am afraid we _must_ invite Jerry Baynard to come with us this afternoon, no matter how dreadful a task it may seem.”

“Yes, alright,” Diana shrugged. She didn’t know why Anne moaned so about Jerry; he was nice enough to her. “But, Anne, you don’t really mean to make the rest of us play, do you?”

“Of course!” Anne clapped her hands. “No one should sit on the sidelines. All the girls and all the boys who show up _will_ play capture the flag today. What could be more perfect or delightful?”

* * *

 

When they arrived at the softball field across the Haunted Wood from the schoolhouse at three past noon, Anne was dismayed to find her earlier gumption wavering in the midst of all the boys and girls arrayed in the stands. Why, there must have been more than twenty of them already gathered when she arrived with Diana, Jerry and his two-years-older brother Paul in tow. She narrowed her eyes at the little crowd of boys standing in a circle in front of the bleachers. Moody Spurgeon, Charlie and Thomas Sloane, Billy Andrews and Gilbert Blythe stood, arms crossed, speaking in low voices and nodding seriously to each other. These would be the ringleaders, Anne thought, and she would have to go through them in order to champion her cause.

“Diana! Anne!” Ruby Gillis jumped up and waved at them exuberantly. Anne spared Jerry a single glance before following Diana’s beeline for the girls sitting in the front row.

“Isn’t this exciting!” Ruby giggled. “I can’t believe how many boys are here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many of them in one place before...”

“Anne brought Jerry and Paul Baynard from Carmody,” Diana nodded in the boys’ direction. At Anne’s furious glare, she continued, “Well, Jerry works at Green Gables, you know, and we thought it would be rude not to invite them.” Anne sniffed disdainfully.

“Oh, yes, I’m so glad you did, Anne,” Ruby said dreamily. “The more the merrier, after all!” She turned her wide eyes around at the crowd of boys talking and laughing loudly.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Anne,” Josie Pye said, leaning against the railing. “Why, I don’t think I’ve seen you at one softball game all summer, and I’ve been to _all_ of them to see my brothers play.”

“Oh,” Anne said, startled. “Well, I’ve had to help with the farm since Matthew is a bit slower now than he was. And I’ve been studying ahead for next year’s schoolwork-”

“Lord above, trust Anne Shirley to prefer a book to a softball game,” Josie rolled her eyes. “One of these days, you’re just going to shrivel up like a prune from all the boredom in your life, my dear.”

Anne stuck her nose in the air. “I do prefer reading to watching from the sidelines as other people play a game, Josie,” she said loftily. “That’s why I’m not here to _watch_.”

Josie shot a look to the other girls, raising her eyebrows. “So you’re leaving, then? How sad, we’ll miss you!” she said unconvincingly.

“You can sit here and watch and talk about the same old gossip you always do, Josie Pye,” Anne said. “ _I’m_ going to play capture the flag!” She turned on her heel, stepped down from the bleachers, and marched over to the ringleaders in their little huddle.

Gilbert Blythe turned at the glint of copper to see Anne walking toward them, a determined set to her jaw. He tried to catch her eye, but she stopped directly behind Moody Spurgeon and crossed her arms, glaring at the back of his head.

“If the blue team’s boundary is Harris Lodge Road, then it’s only fair that the red team has up to Birch Pond,” Moody was saying. “And jail for both teams should be back here, seeing as it’s the midpoint between them.”

Anne tapped her foot impatiently, then reached out and poked him on the shoulder.

Moody turned and looked at her, surprised.

“Oh, hello, Anne,” he said. “Er- what- uh, what can I do for you?”

Anne looked back at them and swallowed, momentarily unprepared for the onslaught of attention. Moody looked at her politely, while Billy Andrews rolled his eyes. Charlie Sloane stood up a little straighter in her presence. Gilbert’s lips curled in half a smile as he watched patiently.

Anne uncrossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I want to play,” she announced.

Moody squinted at her, confused. “You want to play?” he repeated, a bit dumbly. “Play what?”

“Yeah, play what?” Billy Andrews piped up. “We don’t have any dollies to give you, little orphan girl.”

Anne looked at him, disgusted. “Moody, please tell this ogre not to talk to me, and to shave his back hair while he’s at it.” A strange cough escaped Gilbert as Billy shrugged, his face twisting in consternation. Anne’s eyes slid to Gilbert’s for half a second before she turned away. “I want to play capture the flag, of course, which surely you could have guessed from the context of the situation, Moody.”

“Oh,” was all Moody said.

“Wouldn’t you rather sit on the sidelines and cheer us on with the other girls?” Charlie asked officiously.

“No, I would not, Charlie Sloane,” she said determinedly. “Now, while I may have never played a game of capture the flag before, I have read about the subject extensively, and I understand it to be a game of strategy, where physical strength is not as important as mental acuity, cooperation and imagination. Therefore, as I am well-equipped with a healthy dose of all three of these abilities, I think I should be allowed to play, and furthermore I think that I will be a solid asset to whatever team I am elected to.”

“I’m just not sure it’s proper- I mean, it’s not what’s done...” Moody trailed off helplessly.

“Moody Spurgeon,” Anne fixed him with a glare. “If you do not let me play, you will never convince me that it was not because you were _afraid_ to play against a _girl_.”

“Oh, fine!” Moody threw up his hands. “We’ll put Anne in when we pick the teams.” He turned back to finish drawing up the boundaries.

“Be prepared to get picked last, Shirley,” Billy Andrews taunted. Anne ignored him.

“And _furthermore_ ,” she continued, her voice growing louder with her bluster. Moody sighed and faced her again, hands on his hips. Tommy Sloane was watching as avidly as a bystander at a softball game. Gilbert’s smirk had slid across his whole face. “Yes, _furthermore_... I think _all_ of the girls should play.”

“Oh, come now, Anne!” Moody cried, exasperated. “We have sixteen players as it is, counting you. With all the girls, we’d have...” he turned and counted the girls sitting in the stands, drawing their attention, “twenty-four! Twenty-four players, Anne!”

“So?” Anne demanded furiously. “There are eleven players per team in football and fifteen per team in rugby! Twelve per team for capture the flag does not seem too many to me!”

“Is that true?” Tommy muttered to Charlie, who shrugged and asked, “Have you heard of this rugby sport before?”

“Why do you even think the other girls want to play?” Moody demanded.

“Yes, I’m sure the other girls would prefer to sit and talk about baking and, uh, flowers and other stupid things, and you should run along and join them, and leave capture the flag to the men,” Billy said condescendingly.

“Actually,” an unexpected voice said behind them, “we _do_ want to play, and baking isn’t stupid, Billy.” They turned to see Josie Pye standing between them and the bleachers, the other girls muttering nervously behind her. “I saw you stuffing your face with Gertie’s blackberry pie at the picnic last week.” She raised her eyebrows at him and crossed her arms prissily.

“Yes, see!” Anne said excitedly, gesturing at Josie. “And flowers aren’t stupid either!” she declared. Moody opened his mouth to respond, then closed it and looked at her strangely. The rest turned and looked at her, too. “I mean- well, that’s beside the point, I suppose, but you see, the girls do want to play, so I think that’s just about final, isn’t it?”

“I agree,” Gilbert said.

“Of course you do, Blythe,” Billy groaned. Anne expected Gilbert to bristle at the implication in Billy Andrews’ voice, but he just shrugged and smiled.

“If they want to play, who are we to say no? I’m sure I would not enjoy the game half so much knowing there were those who could help me win sitting on the sidelines,” he said.

“Thank you, Gilbert,” Anne sniffed. “That’s surprisingly democratic of you.”

“That’s capitalism,” Gilbert smirked. “Those ‘possessed of the spirit of commerce, who see and who will pursue their advantages may achieve almost anything.’”

Anne blinked. “Yes- well-”

“Are we going to play or not?” Billy demanded. “We should start already, especially if the girls are going to be slowing us down.”

Moody sighed. “Fine, then,” he said and turned to the crowd. “Thank you for coming to participate in the first Avonlea capture the flag game in several years!” he announced. The girls clapped while the boys hollered their enthusiasm. “There will be two teams,” Moody continued pompously, pulling a red and a blue flag from his pockets. “The red team and the blue team. The red team’s boundary extends from the eastern side of the softball diamond to Birch Pond. The blue team’s boundary goes from the western side of the diamond to Harris Lodge Road. Each team will take their flag and hide it somewhere within their boundary. Players caught on the opposing team’s boundary will be taken to jail, which shall be right here, on the stands. A simple touch constitutes being caught, so tackling will _not_ be required,” his eyes flickered briefly to Billy. “A player in jail may be traded out by another teammate, but the number of players tagged out and put in jail on each team must remain constant. If you are caught with the flag in your possession, the flag may then be returned to its original hiding spot or a new hiding spot within the team’s boundary. The first team to find the other team’s flag, retrieve it, and bring it safely into their own boundary wins!”

There was much hooping and cheering in response to this statement. Jerry clapped hands with his brother and pumped his fist in the air. Anne rolled her eyes.

“Furthermore,” Moody continued, glancing at Anne, “it has come to our attention that some of the girls would like to be included in this game, so we have decided to allow any who wish to participate to play no matter, uh, no matter whether they are a girl or a boy.”

There was much smirking and side-eyeing in response to this announcement, and the girls sitting on the stands huddled together, whispering furiously.

“So, without further ado,” Moody bowed with a flourish, “please come to the front of the dugout if you wish to participate for the picking of the teams for Avonlea’s summer of 1880 great game of capture the flag!”

With this fanfare, the young men and women of Avonlea lined up behind home plate in anticipation. Anne was delighted to see that even Tilly Boulter had joined the crowd, dragged forward by Ruby, and that the stands were empty of sideliners.

“So first we should nominate team captains,” Moody started.

“I nominate Billy Andrews,” Tommy Sloane piped up immediately. Anne closed her eyes and swallowed a groan. Billy struck a casual pose, rubbing his chin disinterestedly.

“I second,” Eddie Pye declared, and John Meredith put in a third vote.

“Alright,” Moody said, rubbing his hands. “We have three bids for Billy Andrews, who else?”

Anne prayed that the next nominee would not be a heaping pile of rotten-

“I nominate Gilbert Blythe,” Fred Wright said.

“I second,” Anne declared immediately. Gilbert’s head snapped around to look at her, but she stared resolutely forward, arms crossed. It was for the good of the game, she thought.

“I third,” Charlie Sloane declared.

“Me too!” Ruby Gillis squeaked.

“Four bids for Gilbert Blythe,” Moody confirmed with all the pomp of a Sunday school minister. “Would anyone else like to put forth a name for consideration? No? Then we have our captains! Let’s begin the naming of the teams!”

Billy and Gilbert stepped forward to face the players while Moody melted into the crowd. Billy, as first nominated, went first.

“Hmmm,” he said, tapping his chin and enjoying the attention. “I suppose, if _these_ are my choices, I’d have to say... Tommy Sloane.”

Tommy jumped forward and clapped hands with Billy, and then it was Gilbert’s turn.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” he said simply.

Anne felt her jaw drop. Why, of all the dirty, miserable, underhanded-

“Go on, Anne,” Diana whispered, nudging her shoulder, and Anne had no choice but to go up and stand next to Gilbert.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at him.

“What?” he said innocently.

“Are you making fun of me?” she demanded, as Morgan Bell jogged up to join Billy’s team.

Anne noticed that Gilbert had to lean down further than she remembered to whisper back at her. “You stated your case as to why you would make a good team member, remember? I happened to agree with you. Now, who should we pick next?” He straightened and scanned the crowd.

“Oh,” Anne said, startled. She peered at the potential players arrayed before them. “Well, I suppose Billy is the fastest runner here,” she said grudgingly, “but next is probably Fred-”

“Fred Wright,” Gilbert called, and just like that, Fred joined their team with a high five for Gilbert and a handshake for Anne.

Eddie Pye was called next, and then-

“Diana Barry,” Gilbert announced.

Anne couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face when her best friend stepped forward, awestruck. Diana joined Fred where he stood, a few steps behind them.

“Why did you do that?” Anne demanded in Gilbert’s ear. “Diana is a wonderful person, I grant you, but it pains me to say she is a bit lacking in imagination-”

Gilbert put a finger on his nose and leaned towards her again. “Know your enemy’s weaknesses, Anne, but also know your friend’s,” he said sagely.

Anne squinted at him, swiveled back to peer at Fred and Diana, who were murmuring, heads tilted together, then looked back at Gilbert. “What-”

“Moody Spurgeon,” Billy announced, then sneered at them. “Feel free to take all the girls, Gilbert, so I don’t have to.”

“Billy Andrews,” Josie Pye declared, chafing at the indignity of Anne and Diana being picked before her, “if you don’t pick me next, I will tell everyone what I walked in and saw you doing at your mother’s barbeque when we were ten years old-”

“Alright, alright, hold your horses!” Billy huffed, waving his hands frantically. Gilbert caught her eye and Anne was just barely able to stifle her giggle.

Gilbert picked Robbie Bell next, and then Josie was called, lest Billy’s shameful secret be announced. They continued through the next few turns, and Anne’s satisfaction at her team’s potential was growing, until-

“Jerry Baynard,” Gilbert called. Anne groaned.

“And I had such high hopes for you!” she exclaimed, shaking her head.

“What?” Gilbert laughed. “I like him, he’s been a big help this spring with the fields I decided to keep.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” she said sadly as Jerry passed her to join their group, lifting his eyebrows jauntily. Anne noticed with a start that Billy’s team had gathered a few steps behind him, and in fact Gilbert’s team had done the same. She was the only one standing right next to him, close enough to touch elbows. “Oh!” she said, flustered, and turned away to join the rest of the group.

“Where are you going?” Gilbert asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to his side. “We’re not done yet.”

Anne felt herself flushing, and she thought nonsensically that it started from the warm ring of Gilbert’s fingers on her arm. She gently wriggled free of his grasp and stared straight ahead as Charlie Sloane jogged to join the other team.

“Should we separate the brothers or keep them together?” Gilbert whispered, nodding at Paul Baynard, still waiting to be chosen for a team.

“Uhm,” Anne swallowed, still feeling a bit hot around the ears. “Well, Jerry says they’re quite competitive, so I suppose it _might_ compel him to focus if his brother was on the opposing team...”

Gilbert nodded and called for John Meredith, so Paul was picked in the next round to join Billy’s team, and then there were just five girls left to be split among the groups. Gilbert picked the Sloane sisters so as not to be stuck with a Pye, who simply could not be trusted to play fair when _two_ of their siblings were on the opposing team. That left Ruby Gillis as the final player for Billy’s team-

“And the best for last!” Gilbert said with a warm smile. “Tilly Boulter, join the winning team!”

Tilly stumbled forward nervously while Billy scoffed. “You’re going down, Blythe!” was his rather unimaginative comment.

The groups started to part ways on the softball diamond, when Moody called out, “Wait!” He fished the flags from his pockets and held them up. “We need to pick team colors!” He announced. “Charlie, do you have the strings?” Charlie nodded and held up two fistfulls of red and blue strings. “Each player must tie the string of their team color on their right wrist, alright? Since we have so many players, it’s important that your string be visible at all times.”

“I pick blue!” Billy demanded, yanking the flag forcefully from Moody’s fingers.

“Now, see here, Billy,” Moody said, a little annoyed, “you had first pick of the teams, so perhaps Gilbert should get first pick of the colors-”

“That’s alright, Moody,” Gilbert said, holding out his hand for the other flag. “It just so happens that red is my favorite color.”

And then, the game began, and they were off.

* * *

 

“So what should we do first?” Fred Wright asked earnestly, looking as excited as Anne had ever seen him.

The red team was huddled a little past the softball diamond. Gilbert and Anne stood facing the bleachers, with Fred and Diana on either side of them. Jerry huddled with the other boys, while Carrie and Sophia Sloane cast uneasy glances over their shoulders at the blue team across the way.

“First we hide our flag somewhere safe, _n’est-ce pas_?” Jerry said.

“Good call,” Gilbert said, and Anne grudgingly agreed. “Any ideas?”

“Let’s throw it in the pond!” Robbie Bell suggested. Anne wrinkled her nose.

Gilbert laughed. “While it’s true they may never retrieve our flag in that case, I don’t think that would be quite in keeping with the spirit of the game, Robbie.”

“Let’s put it up a tree,” Anne said.

“Oh, yes,” Diana piped up. “I might have known you would suggest such a thing, Anne!”

“Yes, and I know just the tree,” Anne continued, warming to the idea. “I’ll take us there, now!” She turned, bubbling with excitement.

“Wait, wait,” Gilbert stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. “We shouldn’t all go. We need to split up, but before we do that, we should decide on a strategy to get us started.”

“Oh, right,” Anne mumbled, a little embarrassed. There she went again, running off without thinking as soon as a fancy took her!

“Alright, they say defense is the best offense, but they also say that ‘ _scientia potentia est_ ’,” Gilbert announced, looking around at them with a light in his eyes.

“Knowledge is power,” Anne heard Fred whisper to a confused Diana.

“ _Reconnaissance_!” Jerry said with satisfaction.

“Exactly,” Gilbert nodded. “So while some of us go to hide the flag, others should stay here to guard the perimeter, while a select few go into enemy territory on a fact-finding mission.” Anne turned and raised her eyebrows at him, amused.

_Fact-finding mission?_ She mouthed, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged and grinned at her, turning back to the group and rubbing his hands together with glee.

“Would anyone care to nominate two spies to sneak into the blue team’s territory?” he asked.

They shifted and side-eyed each other for a few moments.

“Fred is the fastest runner,” Anne said finally. “I think he’d have the best chance to make it safely back home if he were spotted by the other team.”

Fred looked gratified at her words, glancing at Diana, who gave him a tremulous smile.

“In that case,” Fred said gravely, straightening his collar, “I nominate Gilbert to go with me.”

Anne glared at Fred, dismayed in spite of herself, but Carrie Sloane spoke up unexpectedly.

“Gilbert’s team captain,” she said. “We shouldn’t risk him so early in the game. One of the other boys should go instead.”

“I volunteer!” Jerry said enthusiastically, bouncing on his toes. “I may be a little short, it’s true, but I am faster than I look!”

“Excellent!” Gilbert said quickly. “Fred and Jerry will scout out the other team’s doings and try to place their flag if they can. Anne, Robbie and I will hide our flag, and the rest of you place yourselves along the perimeter to keep an eye out for trespassers. We’ll meet back here in twenty minutes to decide on next steps, alright?” At everyone’s nods, he straightened and clapped his hands. “Let’s go then! Good luck!”

“Shouldn’t we take a moment to shake hands and wish each other ‘godspeed’ on our journeys?” Anne said reverently.

“Oi, I know!” Jerry announced, slapping his arms around John Meredith on one side and Fred on the other. He leaned forward and bounced a little, chanting, “Red team, red team, hoo rah ray!”

“No- _Jerry-_ ” Anne started, but Fred quickly took Gilbert’s shoulder, who placed his arm around Anne, and soon the whole group was chanting, “Red team, red team, hoo rah ray!” so she had no choice but to sling her arms around the backs of Diana and Gilbert and join them.

* * *

 

“Here it is,” Anne announced when they stopped underneath a wide striped maple tree set on the northern corner of Birch Pond. “Isn’t it the most majestic thing you’ve ever seen?” she sighed happily.

Robbie squinted up through the bright green leaves at the sturdy branches clawing out in all directions. “It’s certainly a good climbing tree. Nice catch, Anne.”

She positively glowed at the compliment.

“I am ever so fond of climbing trees,” she told them. “I think that in a prior life, I must have lived in the Amazon, and swung from tree to tree, gathering nuts and berries and making friends with the squirrels and tree frogs! Why, I am sure I never once set foot on the ground for months on end!”

“Then you would have eaten unripe nuts, Anne,” Gilbert said logically. “They’re not ripe until they drop off the branches.”

She furrowed her brow. “Oh. Well, that does explain a few things,” she admitted.

“I’ll take it up,” Robbie offered, holding his hand out for the flag.

“I can do it,” Anne said quickly. “I can take it to the very top branches, you see, since I am so light.”

“Let Robbie go,” Gilbert said, nudging her with his elbow and handing the flag over. “He will be standing watch, so he should be able to retrieve it if he needs to.”

They stood at the bottom and watched as Robbie picked his way up through the branches carefully.

“Tie it at the very end of the branch,” Gilbert instructed. “The other team should be able to see it, that’s only fair.”

Anne gave him a look. “Do you really think Billy Andrews is going to care about what’s fair to us?”

“I thought I told you before,” Gilbert smirked. “If I’m going to win, I want to do it fair and square.”

They left Robbie prowling a fifty-foot perimeter around the base of the tree and started heading back for the softball diamond. Anne had just skipped ahead of him when Gilbert grabbed her elbow and pulled her in a different direction.

“Hey!” she protested. “The boundary line is the other way!”

“Subterfuge,” Gilbert said in a low voice, wiggling his eyebrows. “Let’s zig-zag our tracks, in case they’re watching...” Then he ducked to the ground and scuttled behind a bush like a crab.

“Gilbert-” she started, rolling her eyes. He poked his head up from behind the shrub and looked quickly in both directions.

“Come on, Anne,” he called in a stage whisper. “I think the coast is clear!” He ducked back down behind the bush. Anne heard a suspicious rustling, and then she saw his feet flash over his head before he rolled away out of sight behind another tree.

She had no choice, really, but to giggle, drop to the ground and slither into the woods behind him.

They darted from tree to tree, looking this way and that.

“This way, Captain!” Anne whispered, pointing toward a clearing in the woods. “I know it’s awfully exposed- but we have to get through!” She turned and saluted him. “I’ll go first- follow after when I reach the other side.”

Gilbert nodded at her gravely. “Godspeed, Skipper,” he said.

She ran like an arrow flashing through the clear blue sky- but then something grabbed her attention and rerouted her arc.

“Oh, how marvellous!” she breathed to herself at the clusters of pink and orange wildflowers dotting the tall yellow grasses in the center of the meadow. She stopped and peered at their bright happy faces then really looked around at the beauty of this oasis of sunlight and flowers in the middle of the Haunted Wood. She lifted her face to the sun, breathing in the warm summer air, the blood singing in her veins from the exercise.

“Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?” she asked when she heard Gilbert run up behind her.

“I thought the striped maple tree was the most majestic thing you had ever seen,” she could hear the smile in his voice.

“And so it was!” she cried, overjoyed, turning in circles. “Does it ever cease to amaze you, Gilbert, how many truly earth-shatteringly beautiful things you can experience in one day?” She tore her gaze away from the bright white clouds slinking across the deep blue sky to smile at him. He stood still as a statue, staring at her. Two red spots dotted his cheekbones, and then his grin rose up to greet her, a light burning in his eyes.

He bent and plucked a handful of yellow dandelions. “Oh, Gilbert,” she scolded him. “You should leave them be. They’re amongst friends here!”

“They’ll still be amongst friends,” he protested, picking at one of her braids and weaving the stems through the twists in her hair. He dotted three flowers in one plait and then reached for the other. “Only now they’ll be,” he paused while he worked, “proper adornments of,” he fixed the last dandelion in place, “the princess of the wood.” He stepped back with a critical eye for his handiwork, then swept an exaggerated bow. “My lady,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat.

Anne held out one braid and looked at it uncertainly. She remembered the looks the Avonlea women had thrown at her when she attended church with wildflowers stuck in her hat. “I don’t know, Gilbert,” she said. “Don’t you think it looks a bit silly?”

He shrugged at her with a crooked smile. “Maybe so,” he said, “but I like it.” Then, before she could stop him, he grabbed her hand and dragged her through the meadow and back into the forest. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder, “we’re going to be late!”

They tripped through the woods, breathing heavily by the time the trees thinned apart and fell away. Gilbert released her hand as they marched across the field toward their teammates where they milled about the eastern edge of the diamond.

“Status update?” he asked when they crowded around him and Anne, buzzing excitedly. Gilbert waved two of the boys away to stand watch on either side of the boundary line.

“Fred and Jerry made it back safely, but they didn’t find anything-” Carrie Sloane started.

“And then Fred decided to go over again and he hasn’t come back yet-” Diana told them, grieved.

“Jerry said he had a plan but I haven’t seen him do anything yet, he’s just been standing there in the middle of the softball diamond, see-” Sophia said, waving behind her.

“Some of the blue team has been by, Gilbert, but they haven’t tried anything, they’ve just walked along the boundary line and looked at us-” John Meredith told him.

“Who have you seen?” Gilbert asked.

“Moody Spurgeon, Charlie Sloane, Josie Pye, Paul Baynard, and Ruby Gillis,” he rattled off like a soldier answering his drill sergeant.

“Hmm,” Gilbert mused.

“No Billy, then?” Anne double-checked with him. John shook his head. “Getting the others to do his dirty work, I see,” she sniffed haughtily.

Gilbert side-eyed her, amused. “We haven’t exactly been all that visible, either,” he pointed out.

She opened her mouth before she had thought of a comeback, but luckily Diana interrupted her half-formed thought.

“I like your flowers, Anne,” she said, looking at her braids. “This look... it suits you.”

For some reason, Anne felt her cheeks burning at this comment. “Oh,” she said, tugging at a braid nervously. “Uhm, thank you,” she cleared her throat and stared at the ground.

“So, what do you think they’re doing, Gilbert?” John asked.

“What?” Gilbert said, distracted.

“The blue team!” John said, exasperated. “What do you think they’re doing, just walking by the boundary line, as cool as can be?”

“Right,” Gilbert said, blinking and giving his head a shake. “Well, it does seem odd... how did they come? In pairs? Altogether?”

John pondered this question a moment. “First was Moody and Charlie, then Josie and Paul, and then Josie and Ruby,” he said thoughtfully.

Gilbert scratched his head. “Josie and Ruby? When was that?”

John shrugged. “About five minutes ago, just before you got here.”

“Interesting...” Gilbert mused, scanning the boundary again. “Wait,” he straightened suddenly. “What is Jerry _doing_?”

They all turned and watched Jerry cross third base and head for the outfield. Anne took a few steps to the side and squinted into the opposite woods. After a few seconds, she saw it- a small outline rocking coyly back and forth, her back pressed up against a tree.

“Ruby Gillis,” she breathed furiously. “That little sneak!” And Anne took off like a shot, running toward the softball diamond as fast as she could. She jumped the gate, landed in an ungraceful crouch, and took off for the pitcher’s mound.

“Jerry!” she screamed. “Don’t do it, Jerry!!”

But Jerry couldn’t - or wouldn’t - hear her. He picked his way across the outfield and jumped merrily over the opposite fence. He danced his way across enemy territory, kicking up an imaginary walking stick and sweeping his cap from side to side.

Anne was close enough to see Ruby’s face, now. She was smiling, clapping at Jerry’s antics.

“Jerry!” Anne screamed again, quickly losing steam. Her lungs burned, her elbows pointing out from her waist as she slowed to a trot, and then a jog. “She’s a-” she gasped, “She’s a- she’s a seductress, Jerry!” she wheezed. “An enchantress!” She placed her hands on the fence and leaned over, gasping for breath. She looked up and watched, dismayed, as Jerry danced right up to Ruby, who fluttered her eyelashes and tagged him out.

“Ah,” Gilbert said, jogging up behind her and watching as Ruby led a very-happy-to-be-led Jerry to jail. “ _La femme fatale_ ,” he grinned down at her.

Anne glared at him, then whirled around and stalked down the side of the outfield, following Ruby and her hostage.

“Jerry!” she yelled, enraged. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, _witless-_ what did you think you were doing?”

Jerry looked over at her and shrugged carelessly. He turned back and murmured something to Ruby, who giggled and shook her head. They turned into the softball field, crossed home plate, and climbed down into the dugout. Anne stomped behind them, breathing hard.

“No really, Jerry,” she seethed. “ _Explain_ this to me!” She gestured wildly behind her, almost smacking Gilbert in the face. “Just how did you plan to help us get their flag, or do _anything at all_ to help us win by crossing the boundary in _plain view_ and getting tagged out _immediately_?”

“Ah, Anne,” Jerry sighed, shaking his head and tutting at her as though she were a child. “ _Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point_ ,” he said.

Anne stared at him, incensed, before her red hair took over, and she shrieked, lunging at him. “I am going to _kill you_ , Jerry!” she screamed, clutching his shoulders and rattling him. “ _As god is my witness, you will meet your end at my hand, Jerry Baynard, if it’s the last thing I do!_ ”

Then an arm swept around her waist and she was dragged backwards up the steps, out of the dark dugout and into the late afternoon light.

“Alright, I think that’s enough,” Gilbert chuckled in her ear.

“Let me _go_ , Gilbert!” she shrieked, still kicking. “The rack wouldn’t be enough for him! Drowning him in a pot of boiling oil wouldn’t be enough for him! _Hanging him upside down by his toes and covering him in milk and honey so birds peck out his eyeballs and insects eat him alive wouldn’t be enough for him!_ ”

“Anne,” Gilbert gasped, his grip loosening around her waist. He hunched over strangely, and Anne slipped free easily. She turned to him, her glare quickly sliding to a look of consternation. He held his knee with one hand, his other raised up flat at her while he wheezed painfully. Suddenly, he looked up, and Anne’s jaw dropped to see the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. He was _laughing_! He was laughing at her!

“And just _what_ is so funny, Mr. Blythe?” she demanded witheringly. “As I see it, we were the first team to lose a member, and quite needlessly, all because Jerry Baynard is a wretched- little- snake-eyed- _ratbag_!”

This did not help Gilbert’s cause, not one bit. He laughed hard and helplessly, holding his stomach. “Milk and honey-” he gasped, “boiling oil- birds- peck out- eyeballs...” he trailed off weakly.

Anne huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, really, Gilbert,” she said, trying to be reasonable. “I didn’t mean I _actually_ wanted to do those things to him.” She looked over at the dugout where she could just see the outline of Jerry’s head, still leaning irresistibly in Ruby’s direction. “I just wanted to, you know, shake him a little bit,” she saw Jerry pop up and Ruby twist away, giggling, “and pull out his teeth very slowly, one by one!” she finished on a whine.

Two tears rolled down each side of Gilbert’s face, and he shook his head, unable to respond. Anne watched him laugh, harder than she had ever seen him laugh before, and she was suddenly seized by the inescapable need to make him laugh some more.

“And then,” she started, casting about wildly, “and then I would make him dance the marzurka until his feet broke in two!”

Gilbert tried to say something that came out all garbled. Anne waited patiently, eyebrows raised.

“Make him- listen- listen to Mrs. Lynde’s advice- nonstop for days-” he said.

“Oh yes, that’s a good one, Gilbert!” Anne giggled, bouncing on her toes and clapping (much as Ruby Gillis had done for Jerry’s dancing not ten minutes ago, not that Anne noticed the similarities).

“Oh, Anne,” Gilbert sighed deeply, leaning back and taking a full breath for the first time in minutes. “I haven’t had this much fun since...”

Anne’s eyes dropped to the ground at his sudden silence. She nudged her toe in the dirt and wrung her hands in her skirt, uncomfortable. She glanced back up to see him pondering, thoughtful.

“I was going to say, since my father died,” he said quietly. “But truthfully, it’s been far longer than that.”

Anne stared at him for a long minute, unable for once to think of something to say, just as unable to look away.

“I’m glad,” was all she could think of.

He smiled at her, then turned to head back across the field. “Ugh,” he groaned, shaking his head. “My stomach hurts,” he trudged a few steps away.

Anne giggled again and glanced back at the dugout. Jerry leaned against the railing. He blew her a kiss when he saw her looking. She stuck her tongue out at him and ran after Gilbert.

* * *

 

Fred made his way back to safety by going around the schoolhouse and crossing the river. He rubbed a stitch in his side as he recounted his adventures to his wide-eyed teammates.

“Morgan and Eddie are stationed in the bushes on either side of the outfield, ready to drag anyone over the boundary and tag them out if they so much as step near the fence,” he told them. Anne looked at Gilbert, startled. She wondered if _she_ would have been taken victim when she ran after Jerry if he had not followed her. “Billy and Tommy are walking along Harris Lodge Road, throwing a ball back and forth and not doing much of anything,” Fred continued, irked. “The rest were going between the softball field and the road, watching us and reporting back. And I couldn’t find the flag, Gilbert, I’m sorry,” he said remorsefully. “I snuck all along the road, too. It seemed clear to me that the flag would be somewhere near there, with Billy and Tommy guarding it, but they weren’t staying near any one spot, and I couldn’t see where it would be.”

Diana placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Well, I think you’ve been very brave, Fred. Going over there again when you had already come back safely...”

“Yes, well done, Fred,” Gilbert said. He turned to the rest of them. “I think it’s time to change up our strategy. If Fred can sneak into their territory without getting caught, then who's to say one of them can’t do the same to us?”

So they decided to pull back into the Haunted Wood, leaving four teammates behind to raise the alarm in case of trespassers.

They huddled up again several paces into the forest.

“I think we should have pairs walking the perimeter to keep an eye out,” Gilbert said, but John pointed out that, without Jerry, there were only six of them left.

“If two of us go to make another bid to get the blue team’s flag, that will leave only two pairs behind to walk the whole area!” Anne concluded. “And Robbie needs backup.”

Therefore, the rest of the red team stalked through the Haunted Wood (although they didn’t go through the delightful clearing with the friendly wildflowers) and came out blinking in the sunlight across the way from Birch Pond.

Robbie jumped to his feet when he saw them. “Hey!” he cried, waving at them. “How goes it, red team?”

They jogged to greet him and hear his status update: not much of anything had happened. He thought he heard a rustling in the woods at one point, but he concluded it was a squirrel or other small woodland creature, because no one had jumped out at him, and he had pretty much just been sitting there the whole time, thinking about jumping in the pond for a swim.

Gilbert crossed to inspect the spot that Robbie pointed to and came back with a furrowed brow.

“Someone could have been hidden behind that copse,” he told them. “We should assume that they’ve scouted the location of our flag.”

After much deliberation, they decided not to move the flag, but to station pairs in the woods in attempt to draw out the other team and tag as many out as possible.

“We need to go on the offensive,” Anne muttered to Gilbert before he started splitting up the group. “Jerry’s in jail and they probably know where our flag is. That means we’re behind and we have to catch up!”

Fred nodded at Anne’s side. “I agree,” he said seriously. “And I’ve had a thought- if I can cross the road without being seen, I can climb Mr. Morris’ chicken coop and try to get a better view of their movements.”

“Oh, Fred,” Diana gasped, “you don’t mean to go back over _again_ , do you?”

“I must,” Fred said gravely.

“Yes, he must, Diana,” Anne said quickly, “and I’m going with him.”

The rest of them looked at her. Diana put a trembling hand to her mouth. “Anne,” she whispered, “Anne, you mustn’t! Oh, what will I do if you are caught? How will we go on without you?”

“Diana,” Anne shook her head, “you are being quite theatrical, and believe me when I say I mean that as a compliment. But it’s better to send two people across, since we have a better chance of at least one escaping to report back.”

“That’s a good point-” Gilbert started, but John Meredith piped up before he could finish his thought.

“Why shouldn’t it be me that goes with Fred, or Gilbert?” he asked. “Why should _you_ be the one to go across?”

“Because,” Anne said solemnly, “I have an unsurpassable amount of experience climbing chicken coops.”

* * *

 

“This way,” Fred hissed, scuttling up the river bank and darting behind a tree. Anne looked up to watch his path and missed her next step, her shoe slipping off the mossy rock. She fell on her knees with a splash.

“Anne?” Fred leaned out from behind the tree. “Are you alright?”

She waved him away irritably and pulled herself across, her boots and the bottom of her dress completely soaked. She wiped her muddy hands on her skirt and ran to meet him.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” Fred asked, looking concerned. “You can still turn back.”

Anne looked at him crossly. He held up his hands in peace, then poked his head out from behind the tree again.

“Alright,” he whispered, looking in both directions. “Stay low to the ground and follow me!” He darted deeper into the woods, snapping his head around to scan their surroundings. Anne, reminded forcibly of her earlier skulk through the forest with Gilbert, found her mood lightening again, and she crawled after Fred with a smile tugging her lips.

They reached the road without issue, but cowered in the trees, blinking against the low afternoon light like mole rats. Anne looked around behind them, seeing and hearing nothing. She glanced up at Fred, who was pressed up against a tree so flat she thought he would sprout vines from his fingers and toes. She looked behind them again.

“Uh... Fred?” she said finally. “What are you doing?”

“Be very... very... quiet,” he breathed, barely moving his lips.

Anne looked at the road, then back at Fred.

“Fred,” she whispered again, this time a bit more forcefully. “There’s no one here. We can cross the road and go behind the Rice’s house to get to Mr. Morris’ chicken coop.”

Fred pulled his head back from the tree and glared at her.

“Anne!” he hissed through his teeth, still refusing to move his lips. “Not yet!”

Anne placed her hands on her hips. “Why not?” she demanded.

Fred dropped his faux-ventriloquist act. “Look, which of us has made it safely back from hostile territory not once, but twice?” he whispered at her angrily.

Anne retreated a step back. “Alright, alright,” she placated him. “It’s just- we might not get another chance like this again. We should go now, while the road is clear. ‘ _Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today’_.”

“Shh!” Fred shushed her harshly. “What was that?”

“It was written by Lord Chesterfield in a letter to his son-” Anne said.

“ _Shhhh!_ ” Fred waved at her wildly, his eyes darting around. “I thought I heard something-”

Anne pulled up short, wide-eyed, but when no one sprang out of the bushes at them, or indeed made any noise whatsoever, she felt her temper (which was, after all, not her best attribute) sparking, and the more she thought about it, the more she stewed in the fact that Fred Wright has shushed her _twice_ , like _she_ was the ridiculous one, when _he_ was the one wrapped around a tree as tightly as Aunt Josephine Barry’s corset.

“Really, Fred,” she said impatiently, “there’s no one here except us, and I’m not just going to stand around and wait for them to come back! I’m going, with or without you!” And she stomped out of the woods and across the road.

She was around the fence and halfway down the field behind the Rice’s house before he caught up to her. He didn’t speak, just passed around her, shoulders tense, sweat running down his forehead. She picked up her pace to keep up with him, sneaking looks over her shoulder.

They reached the chicken coop without seeing anyone. Still, Fred stood frozen as a statue, staring at the road with his hands on the roof while Anne tapped her foot impatiently.

“Are you going to get up there?” she asked. “Do you want me to go first?”

He turned to her, and Anne was surprised at the nerves his eyes betrayed. She felt herself softening toward him.

“Fred,” she said softly, “it’s alright, I can climb up there if you’re afraid-”

Fred shook his head. “I don’t like this, Anne,” he said, a note of doom in his voice. “I don’t like this one bit.” But he seemed to determine that there was nothing else for him to do but pull himself up and swing his legs over.

Fred’s torso disappeared and Anne heard him scrambling his way up to the ridge. She gave herself a bit of a running start and launched herself at the ledge. It was then that she heard footsteps, slapping fast and furious on the dirt road to her left. She faltered mid-swing, fumbling her knee against the ledge, and looked to the side.

Billy Andrews was sprinting straight for her, a cruel smirk curling his lip. Anne panicked and pulled her leg up, setting her foot against the roof, her hands sweaty. She looked up and saw Fred crouched on the ridgeline, his head in his hands. Her hands scrabbled against the shingles and she tried desperately to find a foothold and pull her other leg up underneath her.

Tommy Sloane had appeared at the front of the chicken coop, the light of victory in his eyes. He called out a taunt to Fred, who just sat himself down on the roof and sulked.

Then Anne felt a vice close around her ankle, still dangling four feet above the ground. Her eyes followed the thick fingers to the muscled arm to Billy’s grinning face. Their eyes met briefly, and Anne felt the cold splash of fear wash over her, freezing her limbs. She wished in that moment that Gilbert was there.

Billy yanked, hard, and Anne screamed as her hands and knee scraped painfully across the coarse shingles. She tumbled off the side of the coop and fell flat on her back, the wind smacked right out of her lungs. She closed her eyes and lay still, allowing the pain to buzz through her. The shouts of the boys faded away as she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on the warmth of the summer air on her skin. Jagged rocks pressed through her dress and into her back.

“I’m just making sure the stray dog didn’t run off again-” Billy said, a thread of irritation in his voice.

“You didn’t have to pull her so hard,” another voice argued nervously.

“You’re a disgrace, Andrews!” Fred was shouting from the rooftop, enraged. “Completely ungentlemanly-”

“Hey, _I’m_ team captain, or did you forget?” Billy said, getting in Morgan Bell’s face. “We play the way _I_ say.”

“Three against one!” Fred was rambling on, picking up steam. “Is that the way you have to take me down? After incapacitating a little girl?!”

Anne coughed and blinked.

_Little girl?_ she thought, incensed.

“Doggy’s awake,” Billy said, leaning over her. “Up you go,” he pulled her up by her elbow and pushed her arm behind her back. Anne moaned and coughed again, the air returning rudely to her chest.

“Have a nice trip, doggy?” he snickered at her.

“Billy Andrews,” she rasped, “how much does it hurt... to have such a... stunted intellect... in such an... oversized head?”

“Hey, shut up!” he snarled, twisting her arm up higher, and added, “Dogs don’t talk!” for good measure.

Anne would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t expending all her energy on breathing properly. She turned her head to spit another insult up at him, when she caught a flash of blue poking out from under his vest. Her eyes widened and she quickly snapped forward again.

That dirty, good-for-nothing, little-girl-beater, stupid rotten cheater! He was _carrying_ his team’s flag on his person, tucked beneath his jacket! Anne was certain that was _not_ in keeping with the spirit of the game, even if she couldn’t remember Moody saying anything specifically about it. She felt sure that Gilbert would never even think to do such a thing, which was how she knew it was really low.

Anne rolled her tongue, thinking. She could probably turn around and grab it before Billy even knew what she was doing. But then he would just take it back, and shove her to the ground for good measure. Even if she could somehow find a way to take it off his person without him noticing, she was out of the game and headed for jail.

She would just have to find a way to let Gilbert know, and it would be his job to figure out how to retrieve the flag from Billy Andrew’s jacket without him noticing, on his own territory.

She looked up at the chicken coop, where Fred was pacing furiously.

“Just try!” he yelled. “Just you try to get me off this chicken coop, Tommy Sloane!”

Tommy raised his hands placatingly and tried to reason with him. “Come on, Wright,” he said. “Don’t be that way. It’s just a game.”

“You’ll have to _starve_ me out, Sloane!” Fred shouted, his eyes bugging out of his head. “You’ll never take me alive!” Anne thought that all his time spent in hostile territory was starting to get to Fred’s brain.

“Hey, Fred,” Tommy said suddenly, peering down at the grass around his feet. “I think you dropped something.”

Fred paused and narrowed his eyes. “What?” he said shortly.

“Yeah, look,” Tommy said, pointing at the ground. “It must have fallen out of your pocket when you climbed on the roof.”

Fred couldn’t see what Tommy was pointing at from his vantage point, so he took a few steps to the front of the coop. As soon as his feet reached the edge, Tommy jumped, slapped him on the calf, and said smugly, “Now you’re out.”

The fight fled Fred after that, and he allowed himself to be coaxed miserably down to the ground. Billy crowed his victory and shoved Anne forward across the road, while Tommy and Morgan walked on either side of Fred, not daring to touch him.

Halfway across the blue team’s boundary, Anne was finally able to catch his eye.

_Sorry_ , she mouthed at him. His gaze darkened and he snapped his head forward, ignoring her the rest of the way to jail.

* * *

 

Oh, this was not looking good.

Anne, while at first cheered to see Charlie Sloane and Josie Pye sitting sullenly in the dugout when she arrived with Fred, was quickly disheartened when two boys from the red team and Carrie Sloane joined them not ten minutes later.

Carrie told her that they had grown bored with the blue team’s disinclination to do anything, so had hatched a plan to go across for some more recon. Although Gilbert had first asked them to wait until Anne and Fred got back, he eventually gave in to their demands and let them go. They had crossed behind the dugout, not wanting to give away their path across the river, and had made it in not three minutes before they were ambushed. They had given chase, of course, Carrie said, but it was five against three, and not one of them made it back safely.

Anne watched the sky darken to a marvelous deep blue as the sun sank closer to the horizon. At any other time, the view would fill her with an understanding of peace and satisfaction, but tonight she was too downtrodden by her team’s plight to give it much thought. Five of them in jail, while the blue team had lost only two! Although Ruby Gillis might as well be in jail, Anne thought, side-eyeing the corner where she and Jerry sat telling stories and sharing japes. Billy had been annoyed to see her still standing at the corner of the dugout, chatting nonchalantly with Jerry and Josie, but she had simply shrugged and flipped her hair at him.

“I’ll come running the minute you come up with a halfway-decent plan and give me something to do, Billy,” she said, and then stage-whispered to Jerry, “not that I expect _that_ to happen this century.”

Anne looked at her scraped-up hands and sighed. She felt badly for getting herself and Fred tagged out. It really was all her fault, even if Fred had been behaving oddly. She looked at him again. He was leaning against the opposite side of the dugout, staring out across the diamond toward the red team’s territory. He hadn’t spoken one word to her since Billy and the boys had pushed them down the stairs and into the shadows.

Suddenly, Fred straightened, his gaze focusing across the field. Anne watched in surprise as a smile broke across his face, putting a light in his eyes for the first time since they had gone undercover.

Anne stood up and stepped hesitantly closer to him, poking her head over the fence to see what he was looking at.

Gilbert and Diana were hurrying across the field toward them. They weaved around the fence to enter the diamond and beelined for the dugout.

“Come on, Anne,” Gilbert said in a low voice when they descended the steps, quickly glancing at the other players. “Diana has agreed to take your place.”

Anne froze, shocked. Diana gave her half a smile, walked around her and sat down on the bench, halfway between herself and Fred.

“Oh, Diana,” she murmured when her voice returned to her. “That is very, very kind of you- but I couldn’t accept. Fred is the one who should be set free.”

“That’s alright, Anne,” Fred said, turning away from the fence and flashing her a warm smile for the first time in hours. “You should go.”

Anne blinked. “But it was my fault that we got tagged out!” she protested. “If I hadn’t run across the road, but had waited like you said-”

“Oh, tish tosh,” Fred waved her away and sat down on the bench. “They were onto us anyhow, I’m sure we would’ve been caught either way.”

“But- but-” Anne said, confused, “you were so angry, and- and melancholy about getting caught!”

“Nonsense!” Fred said, sliding closer on the bench. Diana pulled at a loose curl by her ear and smiled at him.

“But-” Anne was utterly baffled.

“See, Anne?” Gilbert said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the stairs. “Fred is fine with staying, and Diana is happy to set you free!” He dragged her out of the dugout, still blinking at her friends’ bewildering behavior.

“Thank you, Diana!” she called, hopping backwards to keep up with Gilbert’s quick step. “I’ll never forget your magnanimous and entirely selfless act of charity on my behalf!”

Anne turned and picked up her pace. She and Gilbert broke into a run simultaneously, crossing into the Haunted Wood.

After a few minutes, Gilbert slowed to a walk, and Anne caught her breath, swinging her arms next to his. She saw him look at her from the corner of her eye, then felt his hand slide down her wrist to grab her palm.

She hissed and wriggled free, holding her hand against her chest. Gilbert stopped, concerned.

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head, horrified to feel her eyes prickling. “Nothing,” she said, sticking up her chin and pushing past him.

“Anne,” he said, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. She sighed and turned, holding out her hands.

“I just scraped them up a little bit, when Billy pulled me off the chicken coop,” she admitted. “But it’s fine, really- they don’t hurt that bad.”

He grabbed both of her wrists and peered down at her palms. His lips were thin when he looked back up. He turned, marching through the woods, pulling her gently alongside him.

She was a little surprised when they exited the wood at the schoolhouse, instead of Birch Pond as she had expected. Gilbert ushered her along to the shallowest spot of the river right next to the building.

“Sit down,” he instructed, then stalked behind the schoolhouse out of sight.

Anne sat cross-legged, resting her hands carefully, palms up, on her knees. She watched the clear water flowing over the gray and green rocks, smooth and round. She leaned forward, looking down over the stream.

“Look, Gilbert!” she cried when he returned at her shoulder. He leaned down behind her and together they watched the silvery-blue minnows twisting and twining against the current.

Gilbert knelt, studying the water. She noticed he had a cup in one hand and a raggedy, torn up washcloth in the other. He steadied his cup above the river, then - quick as a heron on the hunt - he dipped it in the stream, dropped the washcloth and brought his hand up to cover the lip.

He tilted back on his feet, lifting his hand carefully, then held out the cup in offering to her. Anne leaned her shoulder against his and peered down at it.

A single, tiny minnow gleamed in the water, reflecting the setting sunlight. It twisted and curved like a graceful ribbon. Anne dipped a finger in the cup, displacing the water and upsetting the little fish, who squirmed nervously in his new confined habitat. She brushed its slick body gently, then removed her hand and just watched its nimble weaving. After a moment, she grinned up at Gilbert. He grinned back at her, leaned over the river, and set the fish free.

He rinsed the cup out a few times, then did the same to the washcloth, wringing it clean.

“Come here,” he said, pulling his legs out from under him and sitting back on the ground. She looked at him doubtfully, but shifted closer, her knee nudging up against his thigh. She held out her hands dutifully.

He pressed the washcloth gently against the torn up calluses on her palm. She stiffened at the jagged needles darting through her ripped skin, but was quiet, watching him work. He cleaned the dirt, the sweat, the chicken-coop-shingle-residue from her blisters on one hand, then trickled clean water over it, guiding her with two fingers on her wrist to turn it over to dry. Anne felt her heartbeat slowing, lulled by the murmuring brook and his warm shoulder against hers.

When he was done, he rinsed the washcloth again, wrung it out thoroughly and ripped it in two. He set both pieces carefully across her palms, then turned them over one at a time to tie them snug against the back of her hands.

“There,” he said softly, and cleared his throat awkwardly. “That should set you up for now.”

Anne gazed at him, caught strangely between states. She felt her color rising, her heart beating thickly against her chest, yet her mind was tranquil for once, utterly relaxed, charmed into submission by his ministrations.

“Thank you,” she said.

She made no move to stand, incapable of giving up the moment. When had anyone ever tended to her, cleaned up her scrapes and wrapped up her bruises in such a way? Marilla wasn’t harsh but to the point, efficient. The doctor was professional, straightforward, removed. Mrs. Hammond- but Anne refused to think of Mrs. Hammond at such a time. She looked at Gilbert’s face, just then immeasurably dear to her, and wondered at all the twists and turns of her life, of despair, pain, anger, and helplessness, giving way to hope, joy and beauty, entwining together to lead her to this one perfect moment of intimacy, of friendship.

She sighed and leaned her head upon his shoulder, content.

They sat and watched the first shining rays of sunset shoot through the clouds.

After a time of great depth that was admittedly not very long, Anne felt a nudge as Gilbert turned his face into her hair. There was a warm press against her forehead, then his fingers tapping on her knee.

“Come on,” he said, shifting to stand, “I want to show you something.”

She followed him around the schoolhouse, then watched in consternation as he pulled out a key and unlocked the front door.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, aghast.

He pushed through the door and flashed her a crooked smile. “Mr. Phillips gave it to me after I got back into town. I told him I was feeling overwhelmed at how behind I was - which was true - and he told me I could come in at any time on my own to study the teacher’s manuals.”

Anne pulled up short. “Why, Gilbert Blythe,” she said, aggrieved, “that is hardly fair!”

“Oh, Anne,” he shook his head at her, “you know I’ll let you in any time you want some after-hours schoolwork.”

She narrowed her eyes at him because he _said_ ‘schoolwork,’ but he didn’t say it like he _meant_ ‘schoolwork.’ He turned and walked away, chuckling.

They crossed to the back of the advanced students’ room and went through the adjoining door. Instead of entering the younger children’s room, Gilbert pushed into a narrow hallway on the left. They crossed a tiny, cramped storage closet and stopped at the opposite wall. Anne looked up and saw a ladder stretching up through a hole in the low ceiling.

“Is that-” she asked.

“Mmhm,” he nodded.

“Incredible!” she breathed, trying to peer up the ladder where it passed into darkness.

“After you,” he said, sweeping out his arm. She flashed him a look, then carefully placed her bandaged hands upon the rungs and started to climb.

They emerged in a dark and dusty attic space, gray evening light poking feebly through the slats. Broken chairs and desks, old slates and textbooks cluttered the corners. Gilbert crossed to a rope dangling high from the rafters and stretched to pull it down. A panel separated from the roof, another ladder sliding halfway to the floor. Gilbert locked it in place, unfolded the rest of the ladder, and set his foot at the bottom, pointing her up ahead of him.

The evening wind whistled in her ears as Anne pulled herself onto the roof and scuttled to the ridge pole. She settled herself carefully against the chimney, her heart pounding in her ears. She gazed as half of Avonlea spread out before her, nestled in the pink and orange glow of the setting sun, and placed a shaking hand on her heart.

“Are you alright?” Gilbert asked, scrambling up into a crouch in front of her.

“I think so,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve never been up this high before, I don’t think.”

He nodded and turned his attention toward the setting sun. “There’s Harris Lodge Road, see?” he said, pointing. He shifted his arm in an arc. “And there’s the softball diamond.” She squinted and tried to make out her friends, little ants in the distance. “And in between- enemy territory,” he waggled his eyebrows at her.

“There he is, look!” Anne jabbed a finger at the horizon excitedly.

“Who? Where?” Gilbert asked, swinging his head back and forth.

“Billy Andrews, coming up the road! And there are _three_ boys following him now, the wretched coward-” she sat up straight, wide-eyed. “Gilbert!” she exclaimed so exuberantly that he jumped, clutching at the ridge pole. “I forgot to tell you! I couldn’t find a way to send word when I was in jail, and then dear Diana gave up her place in the game for me, and Fred was acting so oddly, and then we came here-” she faltered a bit, her ears burning as she thought back to the moment of silent companionship they had just shared, “and I suppose I forgot to tell you...” she trailed off, distracted again.

“Well?” Gilbert prompted, amused. “Are you going to forget to tell me a second time?”

“Right!” Anne pulled herself together, quickly remembering her outrage. “Billy didn’t hide his flag at any one spot in his territory. He’s keeping it on his person, tucked under his jacket, that lying, cheating, brainless lump of offal and cow patties!”

Gilbert laughed, much to her surprise. “Shall we pull out his teeth?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “Shall we string him up by his toes?”

“Gilbert,” she protested, “it’s not funny. I don’t see how we can win against his low, ignoble tactics!” She glared in the direction of Harris Lodge Road, watching the ants crawling along. “One of these days,” she vowed in a low voice, “Billy Andrews is going to get what he deserves - a fist to his nose and a boot up his rear.”

“Hmm,” Gilbert mused, rubbing his chin and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Perhaps I should knock him around a bit again.”

Anne stared at him, wide-eyed (just as he’d hoped). “ _Again?_ ” she repeated. “You- you- Gilbert! Did you punch Billy Andrews?” she breathed, enthralled.

“You could say that,” Gilbert said nonchalantly, bending one leg up on the roof to rest his arm on his knee, striking a casual pose. “He was running his mouth, as usual, and I thought it was about time he stopped- so I slugged him.” He grinned at her. “He went down at the first punch.”

“No!” Anne gasped, the perfect audience for this story.

“Oh, yes,” Gilbert nodded in satisfaction. “I had a bag of groceries with me that I made him hold first before I punched him.”

Anne whooped in delight, clapping her hands. “Oh, how marvelous!” she squealed. “When was this?”

“Oh- uh,” Gilbert shrugged awkwardly, “A while ago, I think.”

“Did he cry?” she asked avidly.

He side-eyed her. “Well, I can tell you he did, if you like.”

Anne sighed, gazing into the sunset with distant eyes. “Gilbert Blythe,” she said dreamily, picturing Billy Andrews rolling on the ground, blood spurting out his nose and crying like a baby, “I think you are my hero.”

Gilbert was hard pressed to keep a silly grin off his face at _that_.

After a little while, Anne dragged herself out of her pleasant daydreams and turned to Gilbert, distressed. “But how can we win?” she asked. “It seems impossible if Billy does not let go of the flag!”

Gilbert did not seem overly concerned just then. He watched the sunset, his shoulders relaxed, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips. “I suppose we could try to draw him out,” he said absent mindedly.

Anne furrowed her brow, thinking about this. She watched as Billy Andrews and his cronies walked along Harris Lodge Road, the remainder of the blue team stationed along the boundary line near the softball diamond.

“He really does have it in for me,” she said softly. Gilbert shot her a worried look. “Even still, after all this time,” she continued. “I think he hates being shown up in class by the little orphan girl,” Anne rolled her eyes at him.

Gilbert smirked. “He can’t place his finger on you,” he said. “His world is flat, with its own dull order so he can understand it. But you don’t fit neatly in any of his boxes - you’re smart, and brave, and lively, even after he tries again and again to put you down, and so _loud-_ ” he winked at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You like to read poetry and climb chicken coops, you don’t mind getting dirty when running through the woods, but god forbid anyone get you started on the subject of _puffed sleeves_ ,” he nudged her playfully. “You like flowers and baking, milking cows and playing capture the flag, trying to beat me at geometry (good luck with that, by the way), studying and playing make-believe- yes, I’m sorry to say, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, you’re a complete contradiction, a messy one at that, and Billy Andrews does not like you one bit.” The evening shadows played hide-and-seek in his dimples. “But then, he never did have much scope for the imagination.”

She giggled, thankful for the veil of dusk to hide her burning face. “No, he does not,” she agreed, willing her heart to return to a normal rhythm, “which is why it should be pretty easy to trick him.”

“Oh, so you have an idea, then?” he raised his eyebrows at her. “Surprise, surprise. Let’s hear it.”

She leaned forward excitedly. “You go and gather the rest of the team for an offensive strike. I’ll go ahead and find Billy, hide and wait him out. You take the team Fred’s way into blue territory and distract them. When Billy’s cronies set off to tag out the others, I’ll draw him out, and you follow. He’ll either stash the flag somewhere and you can pick it up, or he’ll be stupid enough to run it over to our side for us!” she bounced with enthusiasm.

Gilbert thought it over for a moment, a slow smile spreading like first light on his face. “I like it,” he nodded. “It’s getting dark, and we might as well try something-”

“Exactly!” Anne pumped her fist. “We’ll either win, or we’ll go down like heroes!”

Gilbert laughed. “Should we leave Robbie to guard the flag?” he asked.

Anne shook her head. “If we do this,” she said gravely, “we do it wholeheartedly.”

They scrambled down the ladder into the attic. Gilbert hastily refolded the panel and guided it back up into place. Anne tapped her foot impatiently as she waited, since he’d asked her to follow him down.

They clambered to the ground floor, swept down the hallway and ran through the classroom. Gilbert turned on the outside stoop and carefully locked the door behind him. When he turned, he found Anne standing at the foot of the stair, gazing up at him solemnly, one hand propped against her forehead in a grave salute.

“‘O Captain! my Captain!’” she quoted, “‘our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won.” She paused with gleaming eyes. “Or, well, it will be won if I have anything to do about it! I give you my vow, Captain, so far as it is within my power, I will pursue this mission with all the moral fiber and mental fortitude that the great God Almighty has deigned to bestow upon me.”

“Anne,” Gilbert shook his head, “you are the silliest, most overdramatic-”

“Gilbert Blythe!” she stamped her foot. “For once in your life, will you please just _pretend_ to possess an ounce of imagination in that rational head of yours, and salute me?!”

He snapped to attention and gave her the finest, most dignified salute that Anne ever had the pleasure to witness. “Godspeed, fair comrade,” he said earnestly.

She grinned up at him. “I won’t let you down!” she promised and ran toward the river. “I will succeed in my aim, or die in the pursuit!” she called over her shoulder.

“Anne!” she heard him laughing behind her. “That’s really not necessary, Anne!”

* * *

 

Anne crouched in the woods, hidden by the evening darkness. She clutched at the trunk of a tree with her bandaged hands and squinted toward the road. Billy and the boys had stopped and stood in a cluster, talking.

“...want to _do_ something...” she heard one of them grumble.

“...go home soon...” another pointed out. There was a sudden rumble of low voices, then Tommy Sloane’s voice rose and Anne heard him say, quite clearly, “-standing around like a bunch of ninnies!”

Billy turned and threw his softball at him rather forcefully. “Then go, Sloane! Get out of here! You too, Bell, I’m sick of looking at your faces!”

She watched Tommy and Morgan look at each other, shrug, and stalk away into the woods not twenty feet from her.

Billy glared into the darkness after them, then stomped down the road, Eddie Pye trailing after him. Anne crept along the treeline, keeping them in sight.

Nearly five minutes later, shouts broke out from the northern side of the wood. Billy and Eddie whirled around and jogged back down the road. Anne panicked and came out from behind the trees so she could chase after them, trying to keep in the shadows. She thought she heard footsteps behind her.

Billy and Eddie stopped halfway down the road. The hollering was louder here. She could hear sing-songy voices raised in taunts, screaming, and then laughter.

“What have those _idiots_ gone and done now?” Billy spat, irritated. “Come on, Pye.” He started for the woods, and Anne took a deep breath.

“Billy Andrews!” she called. He looked up and squinted in her direction.

“Did you hear that?” he asked. Eddie shrugged uncertainly.

She backed up, giving herself a head start. “I think you dropped your brain over here, Billy!” she called. “I found this little pea-sized lump on the ground, come take a look!”

“Who-” he started furiously. Anne backed away more quickly now, her heart beating in her throat. She felt the blood pumping close to her skin, her muscles tense, ready to spring away. Billy took a few more steps in her direction but stopped, glancing back at Eddie when he didn’t see her.

She cast about for something else to taunt him with, but the drumbeat of her heart was distracting her. She took a few more steps backward and did the only thing that came to her- she barked.

Billy’s entire demeanor changed instantaneously. He tensed, on the prowl, stalking another few steps towards her, weaving his head this way and that to try and catch a glimpse of her- she almost thought he might be trying to _smell_ her.

“Little orphan Anne!” he growled. “I thought I put you away already.”

“Billy,” Eddie called after him. “What about the others?”

“Leave ‘em,” Billy said, “I’ve got a stray dog to put down.”

“Come on, Billy,” Eddie tried again. “What do you want with her? It sounds like their whole team has gone suicidal. We can go ahead and win the game!”

Anne, fearful that Eddie’s sensible words might sway Billy’s focus, let out a strange series of high-pitched yips. She saw the moment Billy’s eyes found her outline against the trees, and she turned and ran.

“Go and do it, then!” Billy yelled at Eddie. “This won’t take me long.” And he thundered after her.

She darted along the line of trees, her braids bouncing against her back. She saw a shadow crouched in the woods, watching as she passed, but she had no time to stop and look. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Billy gaining on her, and veered into the woods.

Anne’s heart was pounding in her ears. She took even, concentrated breaths through her nose, the air whistling against her upper lip as she exhaled. She watched the ground carefully for rocks and roots, even as she kept half an eye ahead of her to watch for hanging limbs.

Billy was catching up to her. She could hear him stomping through underbrush, crashing through branches behind her. She zigged, she zagged, she ducked and rolled behind a small hemlock.

Billy stopped, breathing hard. He glared around at the empty forest, hands on his hips.

“Doggy!” he called. “Here, doggy doggy!”

Even in her agitated state, sweaty and dirty, with hemlock needles in her hair, Anne found herself rolling her eyes at Billy’s utter lack of originality.

He turned a full circle, wiping his brow. He peered behind some underbrush, then stepped right up to her hiding spot-

A rustling of leaves twenty feet away drew his attention. Anne darted through the woods, counting down only a five second head start for herself before throwing her head back in a howl.

She ran, and ran, and kept on running. Tree needles slapped her cheeks and the cooling night air burned her lungs. She saw the trees thinning around her, the open field twinkling beyond, and pushed her legs faster, barking and yipping in a delirious sort of joy.

Anne left the woods behind and pounded across the grass toward the softball diamond. She turned and saw Billy hesitate only a second before stashing something on the forest floor and darting after her. Anne zigged around the outfield, not bothering to jump the fence this time. She felt her steps slowing, her legs finally giving way, as she passed second base far to her right and entered friendly territory.

She kept running until she reached the opening in the fence behind first base. She stopped there, leaning her hands on her knees and breathing deeply. She looked up and saw Billy standing over her, panting.

“You’re a... fast little puppy... aren’t you?” he gasped.

She glared at him. “Billy Andrews,” she said, “you’re such a dolt.”

He advanced on her. “You need to learn to shut your mouth and respect your betters,” he threatened.

Anne backed away through the opening into the softball field. “I do respect my betters,” she said. “And I respect my peers, too. I _don’t_ respect bullies with no more kindness or understanding in them than the worms crawling underneath my feet!”

He lunged at her. Anne shrieked, dodging his wild swipe.

“Andrews!” she heard a shout from the dark. They both turned.

Gilbert came running up to them, his hands in fists. Bright spots dotted his cheeks and perspiration gleamed on his brow. His jaw was a tight rigid line and his eyes burned poisoned darts through Billy’s head.

“What did I tell you, Andrews?” he said furiously.

Billy looked from Anne to Gilbert and dropped his shoulders, raising his hands mockingly. “Easy, Blythe,” he said with unconvincing bravado. “I didn’t do anything,” he added.

Gilbert advanced a few angry steps at him, and Billy backed away quickly.

“Get out of here,” Gilbert snarled at him, “ _now!_ ”

Billy had a great many things to say to that, but none of them important enough for them to hear. He turned, grumbling, and stalked toward the dugout.

Anne looked at Gilbert expectantly. He glared at Billy’s retreating form before taking a deep breath and swinging around to face her.

“Well?” Anne asked. “Did you get it?”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at her, reached in his pocket and brandished the blue team’s flag with a flourish.

“You got it?” Anne’s jaw dropped in shock despite her conviction that he would. “You got it?!” she looked at him with rising exultation. She threw back her head and raised her arms in delight. “Gilbert got the flag!” she screamed to the night air. She heard cheers and shouts coming up to meet them from the dugout where the rest of their friends had gathered.

“WE WON!” she screamed at him, jumping up and down. “We won, we won, we won!” she clapped her hands.

He laughed and swept an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground and straight to the heavens. He swung her around in a circle and set her gently back on her feet. His smile answered her own, and Anne felt it settle, warm and snug, in the center of her chest.

He pressed his mouth to hers, and when Anne remembered the moment later (as she would, again and again), she blushed to recall that her first instinct was to wrap her fingers around his neck and cling to him. It wasn’t until his hands squeezed her waist, and the strangest thrill shot through her, that she jumped away, shocked.

“Gilbert!” she gasped. “That is- what are- you just- why-”

“Is something wrong?” he asked, trying - and failing spectacularly - to sound perfectly innocent.

“Well, yes!” she spluttered. “Gilbert, you can’t just go around kissing people willy-nilly without asking permission first!”

“Oh,” he nodded gravely. “May I kiss you, Anne?” he asked.

She drew herself up tall, lifting her nose in the air. “No, you may not!” she exclaimed.

“Hmm,” Gilbert mused, rubbing his chin. “I suppose I’ll have to say I’m sorry, then,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least bit.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but luckily their teammates were fast approaching them, so she needn’t admit that her mind was a white fluffy cloud and she couldn’t think of a single retort.

They turned to face the onslaught, their friends’ outlines becoming clearer as they jogged toward first base, when Gilbert leaned down and whispered in her ear, “So tell me, Anne, was your first kiss everything you dreamed it would be?”

A highly undignified squawk of indignation escaped her at that, and Gilbert met their friends with a huge smirk on his face.

It was only after their team had swept around them with questions, cheers and exultations, all overlapping in a delightful stew of excitement, that Anne realized Gilbert had somehow managed to place the winning flag in her hand.

Later, she stood outside the corner of the dugout, waiting for Diana to walk home with her. Diana was saying goodbye to Fred, tugging at that loose curl of hers, her head leaning close to catch his low voice. Anne cast an impatient look at the pair of them when Diana’s giggles tinkled through the night air. Really, when had Fred Wright become such a master of jokes?

She felt a tickle at the back of her neck and turned to see Gilbert staring at her across the field, a lantern dangling from his fingers. Their eyes met, and he winked at her.

Anne whirled around and stalked toward the road in a huff.

Why did he have to go and do that? It had been such a lovely evening, and to cap it all off by pulling their victory from right under Billy Andrews’ nose, and then Gilbert had to go and ruin it all with such a baffling, bewildering, _wonderful-_

It was just like Gilbert Blythe, she thought furiously. Ridiculous, confounding Gilbert Blythe, with his stupid smirk, and his _winking_ , and his warm mouth, and his gentle hands-

“That’s it,” Anne declared to herself, stuffing the blue flag deep into the pocket of her dress, “capture the flag is far too dangerous a game, and I do not think I shall _ever_ play it again!”

_Well, until next summer_ , she thought, and ran home to Green Gables.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! I hope you had even half as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it! This was the first story that was pure joy for me to write from start to finish, which has been such a relief after struggling through the latest chapter of my other fic.
> 
> Unreferenced quotes are from George Washington, Blaise Pascal, and Walt Whitman. Thank you for reading!
> 
> PS - Follow me on [Tumblr](http://christah88.tumblr.com/) if you're interested in painfully slow updates on the progress of my novel, _First Generation._


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